


A Frivolous Waste of Coin

by Syrum



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cute, First Kiss, Gift Exchange, I Don't Even Know, Kissing, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, what am I even doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Valentines day-inspired fic, where the traditional giving of gifts allows Cullen to express how he feels to Dorian in ways he has never been able to with words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Frivolous Waste of Coin

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Luperna’ comes from the alleged origin of Valentines day, Lupercalia, and I pretty much just made the rest up. Also, it's a traditional 'pretty' phoenix, not the strangely deformed ones from the games! A bit like how dragons look pretty in art, but less so when they're breathing fire at you and your mage is down and you're out of potions and you know full well you shouldn't have left Viv at home.

“I don’t understand these festivities at all.” The Iron Bull ducked swiftly out of the way as a young elf almost barged into him, his hands laden with flowers of a hundred sorts, a look of frantic concern upon his face as he vanished around the corner without so much as looking back at the Qunari his small stature had almost bowled over. Dorian shouted some Tevene insult after the boy, but Bull simply tutted and shook his head with a small smile as they continued on their way.

“It is an excuse for youngsters to act like fools and spend their hard-earned coin on a lad or lass who is entirely unlikely to return their affections.” The mage huffed, glowering at two dwarven women who hurried passed, muttering excitedly amongst themselves. “As to why the entirety of the Inquisition has to suffer this madness, for that I have no answer. I can only assume our dear Lavellan has her eye on someone, and intends to make her interest known in the flashiest way possible.”

“I thought you were all about flashy.” Bull replied with a snort, earning a glare from his shorter friend.

“Flashy is fine, but this is an overly decadent waste of time, money and resources, when all three are a scarcity.” They reached the entrance of the grand hall, several hours early for no reason other than to ensure that Dorian was able to secret away several bottles of the fine Tevinter wine that had arrived that morning before anyone could notice.

“You didn’t celebrate the Festival of Luperna in Tevinter, then?” The Qunari asked, prodding at an overly elaborate floral display on one of the tables, before being shooed away from it by the concerned florist as his massive fingers damaged some of the delicate petals.

“Oh no, quite the contrary. The feasting would carry on for a whole week, until everyone was too fat and over-sexed to so much as move.” Dorian managed to commandeer three bottles of the wine, before a glare from one of the men setting up the main table sent him scurrying back to Bull. “It was appalling to watch, really, though did give for some wonderfully effective blackmail material at times.”

“What about the presents, though? You love presents, and don’t pretend otherwise.” 

“As I said, a frivolous waste of coin.” The mage snapped, turning on his heel and returning to his rooms to await the dinner summons, bottles in hand.

The feast itself came around entirely too soon for Dorian’s liking; he had left Bull in the dining hall and returned to his bedroom, unsure as to whether he should dress up for the occasion or not. He disliked Luperna intensely, for more reasons than he dared admit aloud, but that did not mean he had an excuse to attend poorly dressed, or even to fail to attend at all. No, it was his civic duty to ensure that he was by far the best dressed person at the feast, not that he ordinarily had any trouble achieving that.

“Food’s out, innit. Git yer arse downstairs, orders of ‘Quizzy.” Dorian simply rolled his eyes as Sera hammered her small fist against his door, shouting loud enough to be heard some rooms away.

“Well then, would the fair lady care to accompany me to the dining hall, and likely our doom?” The mage replied mockingly as he stepped out into the hallway beside the elf, earning a punch in the arm for it, though the archer was grinning widely as they walked side by side down to the dining hall.

“Don’t make shit weird, yeah? No fancy-shmancy fire tricks at the table or nothin’.” As if to prove a point, Sera waggled her fingers in the air in a mockery of Dorian’s overly elaborate fighting style.

“You wound me! As if I would resort to cheap parlour tricks.” Raising his hand to his chest, the mage stepped back in a mock-hurt gesture, mouth partly open and eyebrows raised.

“Ya did last time. Set fire to that posh bint’s hair, whatshername, Pumpy?”

“The madame Pomprice du Ville, you mean?” Dorian replied with a snort. “That was entirely intentional, you know. The woman had it coming to her.”

“Yeah?” The elf actually looked rather pleased at that. “Nice, didn’t think you had it in ya. I like it.”

“I’m _so_ glad you approve.” The mage drawled, stepping over the threshold into an extremely crowded and buzzing hall lined with many elaborately decorated tables all but overflowing with food, flowers and what looked like stuffed pink birds. They were immediately shouted over to the head-most table, Bull’s deep, booming voice carrying easily even in the loud fervour of the dining hall.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” The Qunari grinned as Dorian slipped into the seat next to the hulking warrior, Sera having been relegated to sitting between Solas and Vivienne, the small elf looking entirely too pleased with the given company, where the two mages were looking decidedly unimpressed by comparison.

“I have rather more class than that, Bull.” Dorian replied calmly, helping himself to the food on offer as it appeared none present had deigned to wait for his arrival. “While my good looks are entirely natural, it takes some time to perfect this near-godly visage.” Though he was only half joking, the warrior roared with laughter, thumping the mage on the back as he grabbed another slab of meat, making Dorian cough.

“I’d prefer if casualties were kept to a minimum, if that’s all the same to you.” Cassandra admonished from her position on the other side of the choking mage, passing the man a glass of water while the Qunari at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish.

The remainder of the meal passed uneventfully, Sera managing to somehow cut the top off Vivienne’s hat without the mage noticing, though her attempt at starting a food fight was quashed rather quickly by almost all present and she spent the rest of the evening sulking. Varric had one end of the table in rapturous silence as he wove another of his fine tales, while at the other end Lavellan recounted their recent encounter with a Gamordan Stormrider during an excursion to the Exalted Plains. Sat directly in the middle of both groups, Dorian let his concentration wander from one tale to the other, and back again, chewing thoughtfully on one of the rather delightful post-dinner biscuits that had appeared as the food was cleared away, leaving the tables looking rather bare.

“I think it must be time for gifts, don’t you?” Varric, story finally over, called over the ruckus of the table. There was a low cheer from some parties present, and Dorian could only scowl as the room became a buzzing hive of activity, men elves and dwarves scrambling over one another to deliver the gifts they had gathered for the one - or ones in some cases - that they loved. Bull remained in his seat, giving nothing and yet receiving gifts of flowers, jewellery and even a fine set of antlers from one admirer. Cassandra had moved down to the end of the table, he could see from his position, and had all but slammed a box down in front of Varric, before storming back to her seat, face beet-red. The dwarf had to all but chase after her with his own gift, and Dorian made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat as she stammered and stuttered behind him.

Lavellan had disappeared from the table entirely, moving down to the other end of the hall where the Chargers had gathered away from the main party. He wasn’t certain, but Dorian at least had an inkling as to who she had gone to see. Leliana and Josephine exchanged gifts, and he could hear - though not see - the gaggle of women around Cullen’s seat. It was at that point the mage stopped paying attention, resting his chin on his hand and looking utterly bored with the whole thing. Solas, sitting not too far away on the other side of the table, seemed to share the same expression, though upon closer inspection the elf was clutching something small and silver in his hand. Even Cole had received gifts, the spirit boy not knowing what to do with the small trinket box in front of him, or the stuffed bear he now clutched.

As the assembled party, and the room at large, began to settle back into their seats - or each others seats - to inspect their gifts, Dorian pushed back from the table as though to leave, just as a small and rather plain looking box dropped in front of him. Shocked, the mage turned to see who might have thought to gift him, just in time to see the Commander retake his seat. Their eyes met for a split second, before Cullen glanced away, blushing furiously and rather obviously.

Turning his attention back to the box before him, Dorian carefully lifted up the lid, not noticing as the chatter around the table hushed to quiet murmurs, all eyes on the mage to see what would happen next. Within the box lay an intricately crafted brooch of the finest gold and silver in the shape of a long-necked phoenix. Diamonds and rubies decorated the plumage, along with several stones he could not name. Dorian was awe-struck as he lifted the beautiful, and clearly very expensive, brooch out from the deceptively simple box, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers over the fine craftsmanship. Finally, after an eternity, his handsome face split into a delighted grin, the brooch quickly finding pride of place upon his robes just below his shoulder.

“Still think it’s a ‘frivolous waste of coin’, then?” Bull asked quietly, leaning in so he was heard, smirking at the grinning mage.

“Perhaps.” Dorian replied non-committally, though his expression spoke volumes, and he spent the rest of the evening with his chest puffed out like a peacock in full plumage.

The mage remained long into the evening, happily sampling the Tevinter wine, smug in the fact he had more to look forward to at a later date, along with the Ferelden beer he kept under his bed for when visiting the tavern seemed like too much work. He did not notice Cullen stand to leave, nor did he see the lingering look the man shot him, not until Bull elbowed him sharply, jerking his thumb in the direction of the retreating blonde.

“Do you think it will work out?” Cassandra slid over into the vacated seat, watching the mage stride after the other man until they were both out of sight.

“Who knows?” Bull shrugged, passing her a flagon of ale. “Don’t think Dorian guessed, though.”

“Really?” The woman’s dark eyebrows shot up, as she gave the Qunari an incredulous look. “The whole of Skyhold knows about our Commander’s little crush.”

“Don’t think he’s too well versed in matters of the heart, Cass.” The larger warrior replied, downing his own drink and motioning for another. “A ‘Vint thing, I think. So...” He paused for a moment, turning slowly to look at her with a sly grin. “You and Varric, eh?”

Cassandra could only groan.

“Commander?” Dorian had finally caught up with the retreating blonde at the steps leading up to the battlements, Cullen pausing two steps up while the mage finished his pursuit with a slow saunter to the base of the stairs.

“Dorian.” Cullen looked as though, for a moment, he might retain his cool, but then his eyes flickered down to the sparkling gem upon the mage’s chest and his composure shattered. “I-look, I’m sorry if it’s too forward a gesture, and when I heard earlier that you hated Luperna, I thought it would be a bad idea, but I’d already had it made by then, and I just-” The blonde’s mouth twisted into an unhappy frown, one hand on the handrail beside himself while the other scrubbed through his hair.

“No one.” Dorian began slowly, stepping up onto the bottom stair, Cullen’s nervousness almost audible as he swallowed thickly. “Has ever done anything like this for me before.” He raised his hand to touch the brooch reverently, smiling softly. “I genuinely have nothing I could give in return which would mean as much.”

“I don’t need anything in return, just knowing that you like it is enough.” The Commander was grinning broadly now, a pleased flush colouring his pale cheeks. “Though, there is one thing I’d like, if you’re willing.” He added after a short pause, looking almost hopeful.

“Name it and it is yours.” Came the swift and certain reply, Dorian moving his hand from the brooch over to the fur adornment about Cullen’s neck and shoulders.

“A kiss?” Seemingly reassured by the slight yet not unnoticed motion, the Commander still appeared nervous, though rather less so.

“Only the one?” Dorian teased, before pushing up onto his tiptoes and pressing his lips against Cullen’s scarred ones, the scrape of stubble against his own clean-shaven chin making the mage shiver slightly as he wrapped his arms around the warrior’s neck. Cullen pulled the man closer still, wrapping one arm around Dorian’s back as the other cupped the back of his head, an insistent tongue probing gently, asking permission, which Dorian happily gave, letting the blonde all but plunder his mouth.

A need for air finally drove them to part, both gasping and panting softly, still very much wrapped around each other, still a step apart, breath misting together between them in the cold night air. “I have wanted to do that for so long.” Cullen finally admitted, an awed expression colouring his features.

“And it took an overly commercial holiday to give you the incentive to do so?” The mage chuckled, shaking his head slightly in amusement. “Well, perhaps it is not such a bad holiday after all.” He finally admitted, leaning up to steal another long and searching kiss.


End file.
